Pieces of Time
by thecompletebookworm
Summary: A collection of unrelated one-shots for Fire the Canon's 2012 Hogwarts Games Competition on the HPFC. Canon Pairings. First chapter is Harry/Ginny. Second is Ron/Lav. Third is Cho/Cedric
1. Never Gone HarryGinny

**This is my entry for Women's Football Round 1.1 in the 2012 Hogwarts' Games on the HPFC. I had Harry/Ginny as my pairing. **

**I own neither Harry Potter nor Hamlet.**

Never Gone

There was no definite point in her life when she realized how strong her feelings really were. There was no moment when she could straight out say, "I'm in love with Harry Potter." It was a gradual process, almost as easy as breathing.

There had been rumors in Witch Weekly, that she'd used love potions or enchantments because there was no way that a simple "fan girl" could have captured the heart of the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Vanquisher of Voldemort! (The publishers and most of the staff were a bunch of hypocrites who had neither met Harry or Ginny. Junior Editor Lavender Brown had enough information about Ginny's first and second year to make a reasonable assumption.)

Ginny almost groaned at the very thought of first year. She'd acted like a puppet half the year to Riddle and the other half was spent trying to learn about Harry. It was obsessive, odd and could safely be considered fan-girlish, but Ginny, like most raised in the magical world, had heard fantastic stories about the little boy who defeated Voldemort.

The "Harry" of her imaginings was her best friend as a child. Six older brothers weren't always very good at playing with their baby sister. She was _fragile and unable to handle their rough-housing. _(Ginny almost let out a snort at that. She definitely proved she was anything but fragile.) The mystical Harry Potter had seemed the perfect candidate for an imaginary friend, obviously powerful, courageous and very brave, but also sweet and willing to accept her and treat her as an equal.

Ginny knew even at the age of eleven that she didn't like "Harry;" she had liked the idea of Harry, a perfect companion. It was curiosity because even a dream had to have some basis in reality. Ginny had stopped trying to rationalize her younger self's ideas a while back, they were quite confusing and naïve in hindsight.

* * *

There was a point, however when Ginny realized she understood Harry Potter as a person. She had met Harry, of course they'd talked (he was best friends with Ron, it was inevitable) and he spent time at the Burrow, but it was almost like he wore a mask she couldn't penetrate. She was just another member of Gryffindor, Ron's little sister, a name without really any personality behind it.

Her fourth year changed everything. War was at the back of anyone who had sense's mind. Umbridge seemed to drill the point home. She really was a perfect example of that quote Dad liked so much from that famous Muggle writer, Shake Spear (or something like that) "The lady doth protest too much." The insistence there was no war was too forceful, to hide the obvious truth.

Dumbledore's Army helped as well. It was their first few moments where he was actually able to see her as an individual. Harry was an amazing teacher, even as a fifth year, who if you looked closely was almost more concerned about failing you, than anything else. The battle of the Department of Mysteries showed them both in a new light. War could mature anyone and truly knowing you were able to trust someone in any circumstance was a blessing.

Meaningful conversations filled that year and their connection began to form. Life was at a transition. Change was truly a terrifying thing and their lives were surrounded by it. Waiting was worse than actually being able to do anything. There was strength in numbers. Friends could become as close as family.

Ginny almost smiled. Their friends became their family as the war raged. Family wasn't just who you were related to; it was who you ached for to know if they were fine (even if someone always took "Fine" to mean "not dying.")

* * *

Most women would say their wedding was the magical moment where they really realized the depth of their love. Ginny was not most women. She had enjoyed it, surely, but there was something more comforting in long conversations after exhausted days, where there were no disguises, no dress robes, just the two of them.

(Even now, she couldn't remember parts of it, only how worried she was that George had actually followed through on his promise to dye his soon to be brother-in-law blue. She wouldn't even have had the heart to hex him. It was something he had planned with Fred too long ago.)

* * *

As Ginny grew older, she never did accept waiting. The nights of the Auror missions were the hardest after the war. There were weeks when she wouldn't hear anything from Harry at all. That information was too classified to be compromised. Ginny hadn't expected to deal with any of the uncertainty after the war, but she tolerated it. Harry was living his dream as an Auror, and it wasn't like she had given him an easy time when she played for the Harpies.

On the long nights of the raids, she would sit on the sitting chair in the front room. The fireplace would burn brightly, awaiting his return. In her lap would either be a Quidditch article for the Prophet, which she had neglected until the last moment, or baby Albus, an adorable baby, but truly a nightmare when anyone tried to get any sleep.

James was almost undeniably sitting on the rug next to her feet. Harry and Ginny had long since stopped trying to get James to stay in his room. He was able to escape no matter what the wards on his room. Ginny had watched him as he crawled out of his toddler-sized bed and skipped across the floor, avoiding the trigger points where Bill had rooted the wards. James was good company for his mother, almost always quiet. His days of mischief seemed to tire him out, so that by the time his father was home, James was fast asleep.

One fateful night had stuck in her memory. Ginny glanced at the clock. Her finished article lay scattered on the table, where she had placed it hours ago. She would have begun pacing if it weren't for a two-year-old Albus finally asleep in her lap. It wasn't exactly worry that filled her, although some of injuries from his last mission against the rogue foreign officials had taken weeks to heal. It was more that she couldn't do anything.

When the flu flared, two things happened nearly simultaneously. James seemed to snap out of his slumber and Ginny was ready at the fireplace to see what tonight's damage was.

Harry expected his welcome, but was quite happy to see it anyway. "I swear I'm fine!" he said, raising his hands in the air in an act of surrender.

"My terms of fine or yours?" Ginny asked, circling her husband like a bird of prey, almost like her mother would have, searching for the sign of delay.

"Whose definition of fine includes thinking of ways to kill Cormac McLaggen? Kingsley put him back on my squad, apparently, I'm the only ones who can control him," Harry almost let out a laugh. "And we thought he was worse in school."

"Did Ron try to strangle him again?"

Harry gave an all too innocent shrug. "If he did, I didn't see anything."

A knowing smile seemed to grace both of their lips at that. James, now tired of waiting as well as just plain exhausted, bumped into his father's legs and joined the conversation. "Daddy, why do you do it?" the little boy whined.

Harry ruffled James' black hair, the hair nearly identical to his own. He glanced at Ginny first, almost subconsciously, as if that's all he needs to find the right words, words their young son will understand. "Because my work is something fun, a puzzle and a game all rolled up in one. It's the second most exciting thing I could ever do."

James rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake just a little bit longer. "What's the best thing?"

"I think I'm looking at him," James smiled as he understood what Harry meant, "and Albus and the new baby when they get here." Harry bent down to scoop up the small boy to carry him up to bed. James snuggled closer to his father. Harry continued talking, "I love your Mum very much too." He leaned across the boy in his arms to give Ginny a kiss.

* * *

"Mum, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine Al," she said avoiding the searching stare of her middle child. He could read her emotions better than anyone.

It was a well-established fact that Ginny Potter nee Weasley didn't cry very often, but her tears were etched clear as daylight on her face.

"Al, just stop, Mum's only fine in the Potter sense of the word. There's nothing we can do to change that," Lily's face had a glare on it as she reprimanded her older brother. The glare was softened by the tear tracks covering her face as well. Two little strawberry blonde heads hid their faces in her shoulder.

Teddy took a step closer to the women who practically raised him, as she looked about ready to collapse. Ginny repeated, "I'm fine," looking up at Teddy. They had really done a wonderful job. The man in front of her was still distinguishable from the little boy she had thought of as her first son. His hair was in its natural form, light brown although it was starting to look a little gray. Teddy's eyes were green for the occasion. Ginny glanced back at the ground. Another tear hit the snow.

James was the only one who hadn't said anything. The former prankster no longer had any thing to say that could make this situation any better.

Ginny felt a hand slip into hers. Bianca Lupin just smiled up at her grandmother. It was a small teary smile. Ginny tried to give one in returned, but it felt stiff and unnatural. Bianca was the eldest of her grandchildren and was trying very hard to act older than her fifteen years, trying to stay strong.

They had joked that Bianca was going to be a Medi-witch because of all the accidents her brothers and uncles seemed to get into. He'd never get to see it.

"Mum, let's go inside. The temperature is going to keep dropping. Even warming spells won't hold soon," James insisted in a vain attempt.

She didn't even bother responding. The December wind ripped through the Godric's Hollow cemetery.

"Is Grandpa really going to be gone for a long time?" Sarah asked. Ginny almost smiled at Sarah's innocence. She was after all only five. Sarah hadn't grasped the concept of death and what it entailed. "I won't get to see him anymore?"

Ginny wiped away her tears and knelt down on the frozen ground next to Sarah. Ginny gently tugged on the end of Sarah's black pigtails. "Grandpa's not going to be here physically, where we can see him, but we'll remember. He's not going to be gone, not while we're still here. He's never going to be gone"

Ginny glanced at the other Potters, their children all grown up with family's of their own. If she had believed there was such a thing as a soul mate, Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter might have been soul mates, but Ginny didn't pay any mind to that nonsense. She had known him as her best friend, her husband, her partner, her perfect companion, and over a hundred more things that didn't seem to fit right. But one thing she was certain, she loved him more than she had thought humanly possible.

**I hope I made it clear that Ginny was reminiscing in the first part. I'm not quite happy with it, but I'm on vacation halfway across the country. In all honesty I'm happy to be able to get anything posted for this round at all. **


	2. Live like there's no tomorrow RonLav

**Football Round 1.2**

**Assigned Pairing: Lavender/Ron**

**Live Like There is no Tomorrow**

Lavender Brown couldn't help but be relieved to be sitting in her divination OWL. Maybe she should have been nervous, but after all she hadn't been wrong yet. This should be the easiest thing she did in months. Professor Tofty pushed up his glasses again. It was almost a miracle he could see anything, how would he be able to _See _and judge someone with the inner eye. Lavender shook her head. She didn't have to worry about that. She only had to tell him exactly what she saw.

"Sir, your tea leaves are very specific. It seems you will fall into mutual trouble. Actually I'd almost say we're all in trouble. You'll persevere for a while, trying to make the best of a bad situation, and come into some gold in the process and…" she trailed off and turned the cup. Lavender glanced at the elderly man. It didn't seem right. It was kinder living without the knowledge, but this was worth her education.

Professor Tofty cleared his throat, "If that will be all Miss Brown-"

"No wait, sir, may I see your palm again."

He held out his wrinkled hand once again. Lavender traced the lifeline; it did abruptly stop. She fingered the Grim on the bottom of the cup. The Grim was not alone either. It sat on a shape almost like that of a horse. Death rides a pale horse.

"I just had to be sure," he looked so fragile; his bald head began to glisten with sweat. Lavender looked him directly in the eye. "Sir, I wouldn't give you more that a year, maybe a year and a half at most."

Professor Tofty's eyes seemed to bug out. Lavender assumed that this sort of reaction was normal. "Why d-don't you continue with the crystal ball, Miss Brown?" he stuttered.

Lavender quickly gazed at the ball willing to do anything to avoid her examiner's open-mouthed horror. There was a slight more fog than usual, meaning a lapse of time, not a great one but maybe two years. It was focused once again, clearer than she had ever seen a crystal ball before. There was a fight. It almost looked like an abandoned manor or some collapsing building. There was debry everywhere. It looked familiar. She leaned closer to see the stone walls, the hallways, and the staircases she'd known since she was eleven.

"Hogwarts," it was barely a whisper. A beast, something not remotely human, dragged a body along behind it leaving a trail of blood. The two figures were on a balcony. There was another explosion, separating them both as they fell. In an instant, the grey mass was back on its victim. The ball seemed to sense her longing, as it pulled closer in on the image. The thing seemed to crouch, lowering its teeth right into-

"Are you alright dear?" How had Professor Tofty moved so quickly? He was supporting her, almost as if he were holding her upright.

No she was not alright, but she could only nod her head as she left the hall. How could anyone be fine knowing they would die a horrific death at the age of seventeen?

* * *

Lavender sat in the Gryffindor Common Room, staring into the fire. She took deep calming breaths as the image from the crystal ball danced its way across the flames. Far away, it sounded almost as if someone was calling her name.

"Lavender, I've been trying to get your attention for nearly ten minutes. What's going on? You haven't said a word." Parvati sat in the chair next to Lavender and tugged on the end of her braid before pulling her map of Jupiter's moons into her lap. "Are you just worried about Astronomy or…" she trailed off, giving a searching stare.

"It's nothing like that. I just saw something during my exam."

"What was it? Is Professor Twrlaney coming back? Or is Harry really going to die this time?" pausing slightly for the smile they had always shared in the past. "Or maybe it's just something so ludicus, it's hard to believe. Maybe the Chudley Cannons can finally win a Quidditch match. "

"Parvati, what would you do if you knew how you would die?"

Parvati thought for a second. "I'd live like I had nothing left. Do everything I had ever waned to do. Travel, explore, laugh, just do what ever I wanted…" She stopped as she finally realized what was going on. The two girls sat there, waiting, trying to figure out words good enough to say what they meant, what they meant to each other. Words that could say everything about all their adventures together, all their inside jokes, everything they'd ever done, telling each other it would be fine. Those words never came.

* * *

As the summer pasted, Lavender thought more about what Parvati had said. How would she want to live? What would she do if she had al he time left to do it? There was so much left to do. How could she accept this was the end? Well, she hadn't been wrong yet. She'd have to start smaller. A kiss, she wanted to have her first kiss before she died. To not have that one small pleasure would be cruel. And with a kiss came a boyfriend and a happily ever after. It didn't matter how short her happily ever after would be, she would enjoy it.

* * *

Lavender Weasley. Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley. Lavender and Ron. Her name and his interlinked in nearly everyway covered the parchment. There was something so right about the way they sounded together.

It was innocent looking and nearly perfect. Any teenage girl would have fantasies like these. Only she knew that these would most likely stay fantasies. There was too little time.

It hadn't been until recently that she really started noticing. There was one problem with going to a boarding school. You'd seen everyone grow up. There was nothing quite new or too exciting. You had seen your peers at their awkward stages.

Lavender had thought a lot over the summer, trying to find her perfect companion. Ron could make her laugh with an easy outgoing attitude. He was undeniably brave, really a true Gryffindor. And when she'd seen him on the train, she'd known. Ron wasn't quite the tall gangly thing anymore. He'd really grown up. His abundant red hair was slightly longer than he'd worn it last year. His blue eyes sparkled like he was still laughing despite the war.

Lavender had started watching him closer, following him around at a suitable distance, memorizing his schedule, sitting closer than she would have before in class, laughing louder, just doing the little things to help him realize she was there. Her heart had nearly soared when he had nodded when she wished him luck at tryouts. It was something so simple and yet it could make her forget. Sometimes the only thing she wanted to do was forget everything that happened at the Divination OWL.

* * *

The morning of the Quidditch match had brought with it its festive atmosphere. Lavender smiled at Ron as he entered the Great Hall. He was so handsome in his Quidditch uniform. He didn't really acknowledge her. If anything Ron looked slightly nervous. After about five minutes of gazing at the back of his head, hoping to make eye contact, she opened her copy of the Daily Prophet. An article at the bottom of the second page caught her interest "Ministry Examiner Found Dead. Appears No Foul Play." Professor Tofty had died sooner than expected.

A brief feeling of panic filled her. She rushed out of the great hall, wanting time to think about what this meant. She had even less time than she had originally thought. Lavender winced. She hadn't even kissed Ron yet. Well, there was no time left to wait. She would just have to make the first move.

* * *

Ron had really done a wonderful job. Lavender congratulated him before doing the bravest thing, she thought she'd done yet. Lavender kissed him like she had never kissed anyone, latching her lips onto his. She nearly sighed at the sensation, so wonderful, so breathtaking, and nearly electric. This was how it was meant to be. When he didn't push her away, she moved closer moving her hands in toward his head and wrapping her fingers in the thick red hair. It was perfect, intoxicating really. It was the beginning of her happily ever after.

**Well it's definitely not your typical RonLavender fic. It is undoubtedly one of the hardest things I've ever written. I'm not a huge fan of the pairing. (Ron was always meant to be with Hermione.) The divination idea/theme seemed to work its way into the piece without my knowing. It was one way to develop Lavender's character further (especially her desperate qualities) and show her Gryffindor side.**

**I personally believe Lavender survived the final battle, however provided with the image she was it would be understandable for Lavender to assume she died.**


	3. Letting Go ChoCedric

**Football Round 1.3**

**Assigned Pairing: Cho / Cedric**

**Optional Prompt: Empty **

**Letting Go**

The place was no longer black. She hadn't been here in almost a year. She had come back every seventh of October, but avoided it the rest of the year. There were many memories, not all of them bad, but there were way too many "what-ifs" for her liking.

What if he had never been a Champion? What if Cedric hadn't agreed to a joint Hogwarts victory? What if he had been good enough to handle he-who-must-not-be-named? What if- Even in her mind she trailed off. The questions sounded weak to her and she'd already asked them hundreds of times. None of it could change. Cedric loved being Hogwarts champion. He had loved the feeling of being respected and a role model, especially for the first year Hufflepuffs. He had loved being challenged. If he had lived, it would have been one of his proudest accomplishments, not because he'd accomplished a wonderful thing, but because finally people noticed him doing it. Winning hadn't truly mattered, not to her. Cho had noticed him doing nearly everything, whether stepping in back in second year against some older boys mocking a little girl about her Tutshill Tornados badge, or having a special glint in his eye at the very mention of Quidditch. Cedric was always good enough. A surprise could kill the best of people, and it did.

Cho was crying tears streaming down her face and she didn't try to stop them, didn't even try to wipe them away. Cedric had seen her cry before. Before he died, Cho had felt nearly indestructible, only really crying when the Slytherin beaters hit her from both sides and cracked three of her ribs. And then, he had held her hand the entire time in the Hospital Wing. Cho almost felt like laughing, but it still felt wrong to laugh here. She'd repaid him by spitting Skele-Gro on him. The vile liquid splashed all over his face, a little ending in his mouth. Cedric had mock gagged, "Definitely not pumpkin juice." Cho had giggled hard enough to stop crying and wince from her ribs.

Cedric could always make her laugh. He'd come over to her house once during the summer holiday. Cho been sick at the time, nothing serious (but then colds were generally worse when you were allergic to a key ingredient in pepper-up potion.) He tripped coming through the floo network and nearly fell into the front table. Cedric brushed himself off mentioned "how those rides keep getting wilder every time he tried to go anywhere important". To this day, Cho isn't sure whether her tripped on purpose or if it was just an odd coincidence because it was the first time she'd ever seen him stumble. Instead of leaving, they had set at the base of her bed playing Exploding Snap and talking about almost anything. Cho missed the calm moments like that most. In the panic of his death those peaceful nonchalant memories seemed the first forgotten, leaving scenes close to nightmares.

After he was gone, well, it was like she was a faulty faucet, leaking everywhere only to plug up once again fooling everyone into thinking it worked again, before exploding. The day of the funeral Cho had curled up as small as she could, hugging her knees, right next to his grave as if willing him to come back right into her arms. On his birthday, she hadn't even left her bed. Marietta had said she wasn't feeling well, but it was more than that. Cho had been empty. Their first holidays apart hadn't felt like a holiday at all. How could anyone be so happy?

Happiness hadn't come to her for a long time. There were times when she felt she was pretending, with nothing left of her dignity but a mask. Cho would wait, longing for what she couldn't have, trying to replace someone who could never be replaced. But moving on seemed to be forgetting, disrespecting him and his memory.

At last, she wiped her tears. This wasn't what she had come here to do, not today at least. Cho played with the silver band around her finger. "I promise," he had said, "to always stay right here with you." It wasn't a promise he could keep. She slipped it off. Cho held the ring in the cup of her hand, admiring it for the last time. The ring glistened in what little sunlight slipped through the clouds on the overcast day.

Cho knelt by the headstone and gently put the ring down at its base. "I didn't really think I deserved this. I just couldn't understand why you gave it to me when you did, right before the third task. You should have been studying, preparing finding a way to stay alive," she was pouring all the anger she'd been wanting to tell him since the shock wore off. Cho didn't feel like she could ever do enough to compare, not to him, not to the great Cedric Diggory.

"I loved the ring. I still love it, because you gave it to me and what it meant, that you loved me just as much as I loved you," Cho paused again, unsure of what to say, as if she could offend the corpse six feet under.

"But Cedric, I want to be able to remember you as you were, not as some expectation I need to live up to. You were more than that. I just wanted you to know how much you meant to me. You were the first person I ever loved. That's something special to a girl. You remember your first crush, or your first kiss, or your first date to an official school dance. You just happened to be all three." Cho smiled as brightly as one could in a cemetery as she relived those moments in her mind's eye.

"I guess what I'm trying to say I can't keep my end of the promise. I just want to be happy without always-I want to be able to do something without feeling guilty or waiting for you to be right next to me. I nearly broke down every time I saw a snitch sixth year. I love you. I miss you. I just hope you can forgive me."

Maybe she was expecting something spectacular when she admitted that. Nothing did. With a long backward glance she left the cemetery.

Cedric Diggory

7 October, 1977 -24 June, 1995

A True Hufflepuff

**Authors Note: This entry has to be dedicated to my paternal grandparents. It's their 50****th**** wedding anniversary this weekend (which might also explain why my entry is in before the last minute.) Some of Cho and Cedric encounters are based on their first meetings. **

**Also this is written at least five years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Cho really needed some closure. In my opinion, both Harry and Michael Corner were people she found instead of dealing with what had happened. After the war, she would have seen things differently, what with witnessing death and disaster first hand.**


End file.
